


Just by Chance

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The meet-cute, the crush, eventual infatuation - all that soppy stuff only happens in movies, right?





	1. Excuse me, ma'am?

'Excuse me, ma'am? I think you left this behind.'

You feel a hand, gentle in the crook of your elbow, pull and turn you. 'Your phone,' says the hand's owner.

_I'm a ma'am now? How the hell did that happen?_

The waiter smiles as you take the phone from him. You smile back. 'I'm always leaving this bloody thing behind. I'm beginning to think I should chain it to my wrist.'

'Or perhaps a holster, like a cowboy?'

You laugh, then, with mock seriousness: 'Mmm, yes, far less bulky than a chain. Anyway, thank you so much for this. I'd have to buy a new phone every six months if it weren't for people like you.'

'No problem, just being helpful. Thorin's my name, by the way. I've seen you in here a few times.'

'Y/N. I've seen you a few times as well. Have you worked here long?'

'Oh, about a year.' Thorin whips his head around at the sound of a stern voice. 'I'm sorry, I'm going to have to go, my manager needs something. Hold on to that phone, alright?'

And then he's gone, and you're left to rejoin your friends outside the pub. Your breath condenses in the air, and you shove your hands swiftly into your pockets. 'Sorry to keep you waiting, guys. Left my stupid phone at the table.'

'Oh, wow, really?' 

'Yeah, that's not like you!'

'Oh, leave off,' you giggle.

'Come on, let's go back to mine.'

 

* * *

 

'Damn this lock!' you hiss as your keys stick for the umpteenth time this week. Finally, you manage to force the door open, only to be hit by a rush of frigid air. 'And damn this fucking window!' The flat is crossed in a few angry steps, and the window with the broken sash is wrestled into submission. You feel your cat brush against your calf, soft, soothing.

'Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I woke you up, didn't I, mate?'

You scoop the miraculously warm cat into your arms. He nudges your chin. 'You know, I can never tell if you actually love me, or if you just want more food.' You spy your bedroom door, very slightly ajar. 'I can tell, however, when you've been in my bed. Can't say I blame you.'

You move the duvet aside to see a perfectly cat-shaped ring of dark fur in the middle of the sheet.

 

Half an hour later, all is right in the world once more. A steadily warming flat, a softly purring cat, a mug of tea and a book on your lap. The more you try to read, however, the more your thoughts stray back to the encounter in the pub.

_Thorin was his name, right? Seemed nice enough, funny enough. Certainly handsome enough. Oh, but who am I kidding? Who's still working as just a waiter at his age? Got to be something not quite right there. That's always the way it is, isn't it? Decent guy, no ambitions._

You stop yourself.

_But that's not fair. Of course it's not. Maybe he's some sort of reclusive artist genius who just works to make ends meet? Or maybe he's just a perfectly ordinary guy who also happens to be a waiter. No shame in waiting tables. You're basically just a pencil pusher yourself._

A yawn escapes before you drain the last of your tea. The book, well and truly forgotten by now, slips to the floor along with the cat as you make your way to the bathroom.

'God, I look tired. And old. No wonder he called me ma'am.' You twist the tap, giving the hot water a few seconds, then gently you scrub your face of the day's grime.

_There was something between you, though, wasn't there? How long has it been since you've been on a date, anyway?  What's the harm in trying? If he laughs right in your haggard face, there are a million other pubs around for you to get pissed in. Go on._

You look back into your reflection, your face still tired, but resolute.

_Tomorrow, then._

 

 

 


	2. The Other Side

'It's alright, Thorin, I'll finish up tonight.'

'You sure, Bard? I can stay a little longer - what about the kids?'

'They're at their mum's for the weekend, mate. Go on. There're only a few stragglers anyway.'

'Cheers, Bard. Let me know when I can return the favour.'

'No stress. Be safe out there - looks like that wind's picking up.'

'Will do.'

 

'Come on, Fíli, pick up...' grumbles Thorin. The phone rings out, and he shoves it back in his pocket with a sigh.

_You're only a few streets away. Surely they're fine._

But the heating  _had_ been acting up. And the taps in the kitchen. And the stove. Thorin bundles a little further into his jacket, trudges a little faster.

 

The lift still broken -  _what had it been, a month?_ \- Thorin reaches his floor a little worse for wear, now rid of both hat and scarf. He scrapes his good work shoes off on the mat and shoves the swollen door open.

'Uncle Thorin!' comes a childish voice.

'You said you'd be late tonight, Uncle,' from the older boy. 'I tried to make dinner, don't know how well it turned out.'

Divesting himself of his coat, Thorin smiles at his two nephews. 'I'm sure whatever you made is wonderful, Fíli. And as for you, Kíli, did you help your brother?'

'I did the potatoes!'

'And did you both do your homework?'

'Yes, Thorin,' in unison. The scent of sausages and mash wafted out of the tiny kitchen and into the hall.

'Right, lads. I think it's a dinner in front of the telly sort of an evening, don't you?'

 

Later, much later, after the boys had been trundled off to bed, Thorin, with a glass of wine in one hand and a pen in the other, sets to the bills.

'Right, so, if I can get a couple extra shifts this month, Kíli's football will hopefully be covered for the term. As long as we're strict with the groceries, Fíli's school books should slot in too.' Scribbling follows, along with a few hasty jabs to a beaten-up pocket calculator. 'Ah, fuck. I forgot about the bloody rates going up. Bilbo did tell me.' Further scribbling. 'If I can find a few more books secondhand this time round, maybe we can scrape through. God's teeth, I'm tired.'

Thorin falls back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose from under his glasses.

_Scraping through isn't enough when you have a stove about to give up the ghost, a heating system almost Draconian in its cruelty, and taps leaking and squealing to high heaven. How much more do you have in you anyway? Enough to see Fíli off to uni, but what about the little one?_

'Stop wallowing, man. Dís didn't make you promise for nothing. Everything seems a little brighter after a night's sleep, anyway.'

Thorin leaves his mound of papers strewn across the dining table, heading off to the comfort of a hot shower and his pokey bedroom.

 


	3. Fancy Seeing You Here

_Alright. Makeup's nice, hair's... passable, outfit's good._

'Wallet, phone, keys, lip balm...' You do a quick handbag check before yanking the door shut. The tap of your footsteps echoes down the hall as you leave your building, and a brief glimmer of doubt washes over you before you decide that no, heels weren't too suggestive, and no, these heels weren't too much.

_Pull yourself together. You're not a schoolgirl._

Being a Saturday, you had spent the majority of the day trying and failing not to think about the evening, and the pub. No, you hadn't thought at all about how you were going to adopt a casual air, were going to flip your hair just so, were going to laugh prettily and not subject him to your usual honking. You already had a pad of paper and a - working! - pen stashed in your bag, on the off chance he didn't have his phone on him for you to slip your number into. 

_That's what being single for two bloody years does to you, silly woman._

Then it was off into the chill of the night, and down to the pub. 

 

* * *

 

When you arrive, the place seems damn near fit to burst. With a gig just kicking off, more and more people squeeze in all around you. You try in vain to crane your neck over the swarm, seeing if you couldn't spot his dark tangle of hair.

_He's got to be working tonight. This place couldn't get any bloody fuller._

Ah, there! You try your hardest to wade through the crush. Seeing him duck behind the bar, you swiftly join the queue, rehearsing silently all the while. By the time you're three people away, your inhibitions have miraculously retreated, and you feel a strange sense of calm.

'What can I get you?' comes the familiar voice, and you smile.

'Hi, sorry, I don't know if you remember me, I was in here yesterday and-'

'Oh, yeah. Y/N, right?'

'Yeah - Thorin, right? Not a name you hear too often.'

'No, I suppose not. Sorry, can I get you a drink?'

'Umm, yeah, sure, but that's sort of not the reason I came in here.'

 _Oh, God, is he getting sick of me?_  

'Oh?'

'Yeah, um - could we talk? Or have I picked the worst possible time?'

Thorin furrows his brow, and tucks an unruly piece of hair behind his ear. 'No, that's okay, I go on break in about 15. Do you mind waiting? I can grab you something while you do.'

'A half of IPA, then. Thanks, Thorin.'

'Not at all. Not too often I get pretty women wanting to chat to me at work.'

'Oh, I find that hard to believe.' Thorin only smiles at that, and passes your beer to you. 

'On the house. I'll come find you when my break's on.'

 

You move steadily closer to the stage at the far end of the building, though whether by your own feet or by the motion of the crowd you can't fully tell. The band's... alright. Certainly nothing to write home about. But you gamely sip your drink, and try to bob along with the rest of the group. You're just trying to wrestle your jacket off when you feel a hand in the centre of your back.

'There you are. Come on, I'll take you where we don't have to shout to hear each other.' He takes your hand, then, and you feel the callouses of a man who is most definitely not just a waiter. You're led out the front door and around, just to the threshold of an alleyway. Down into its depths you can see a few of the other waiters lighting up, stamping their feet in the cold.

'You alright in just your shirt?'

'What? Oh, yeah, fine. Saturday nights pretty much constitute a full workout for me.'

You laugh. 'Yeah, I used to wait tables. You come home feeling like a drowned rat, as far as I can recall.'

Thorin nods and chuckles, but you see the question in his eyes.

'Anyway, yes, sorry, I wanted to talk to you.'

'Mm.'

'I didn't want to make such a song and dance about it, I just didn't know a gig was going to be on tonight is all. Sorry.'

'You apologise a lot.'

'I know, I'm sor- shit. No.' You both laugh, then you take a deep breath. 'What I'd like to know is if you'd maybe like to go grab a bite to eat with me sometime, or maybe a drink, or see a movie, whatever.'

Thorin pauses. You fluster. 'Oh, God, you're married, or something, aren't you?'

His eyes widen. 'No! I'm... completely unattached. Have been for a few years. God, this is strange.'

Your heart sinks, you're sure he can see it in your face. 

'No, sorry! I didn't mean anything by that. It's just this whole dating thing, it's so foreign to me now. Plus, I'm just... very busy. I mean, I'd like to. Very much. But I don't know when I'd fit it in.'

'Well, when do you work?'

'Pretty well all the time. I get a Sunday off now and then, and maybe a weeknight, but other than that, I'm always on.'

'Surely this pub isn't that busy all the time.'

'This isn't the only place I work. Carpentry, bit of welding, renovations here and there.'

A-ha. There you go. 'Well, could I give you my number and we can sort something out? I'm sure there has to be some time that we're both free.'

'Yeah, alright. Do you have a pen and paper? My phone's inside.'

'Sure do.' You rifle through your bag, tearing a piece off the little notepad and scribbling your mobile onto it, along with a tiny smiley face. 'Here you go.'

Thorin takes the scrap of paper with a smile. He squeezes your arm, swiftly checking his watch. 'Shit. Better get back in. Thanks, Y/N. I'll give you a buzz. See you.' With that, he's gone, and you're left out in the cold, the light and music from the pub more of an annoyance than anything at this point. You finish off your drink, and head home, elated.

_Don't get too excited. He's probably some crazy workaholic. Some crazy relationship-phobic workaholic. You think he'll call you? Please._

'Oh, shut up and be happy for once.'

 

* * *

 

You rise late the day after, more than a little hungover, with two empty bottles of wine sitting, accusatory, on your coffee table to greet you. You'd left your phone on the sofa the night before, barely shambling into bed yourself. You pick it up, scrubbing a hand over your tired eyes and through your hair.

 ** _Unknown number. Two missed calls._** _Shit! He actually called!_ You hastily clear your throat, thumbing 'call back'. A rustling sound on the other end of the line, and then that voice.

_'Hello?'_

'Yeah, hi, Thorin, Y/N here. How are you?'

_'Oh, Y/N! Well, thanks. And yourself?'_

'Good,' you lie, adding: 'Did you get in late last night?'

_'About 1, I think. Not bad for a Saturday night. Did you go straight home?'_

'Yeah. Well, home via the offie.'

You hear a chuckle. _'Yeah, sounds familiar. Listen, the reason I called is that I actually have the whole day free, so if you're up for it, we could go do something.'_

'Oh, um, okay, sounds good to me. I've only just... woken up, so would you give me a bit of time?'

 _'Sounds like you went home via the offie and more, then,'_ laughs Thorin. _'Sorry. I've got an errand or two to run, and a couple things to sort out round here anyway. Is there somewhere I could... meet you? We're probably at completely different ends of the city, knowing my luck.'_

'I'm just round the corner from the pub, really.'

 _'Oh, great! Me too. How about... hmm... what about that little park on the corner of Dale and Greenwood? It's across from the chippy.'_  

'Yeah, I think I know the one. Does 1.30 sound good?'

_'1.30 works just fine. I'll see you then.'_

'Right, see you!' The call ends, and you flop back onto the sofa, grinning like a loon.


	4. Frantic

One decidedly overlong shower later, your head's significantly clear for you to brew a strong coffee and sit down for your mandatory scroll-time. Despite the lingering hangover fug, you do possess enough presence of mind  _not_ to flick through his Facebook photos all the way back to 2011. 2012, however, is just fine.

_It's his fault, really. Who in their right mind doesn't have privacy settings these days anyway? Fuck, she's pretty. How many other photos does she turn up in?_

Engrossed, you quickly flick your eyes up to check the time. 1.13. 

_Shitshitshitshit._

You virtually slam the last few mouthfuls of coffee still left in the mug, and sprint down the hall and into your closet.  _How the hell is every pair of jeans either too small, too big, or covered in cat hair? God, no time. A dress, tights, boots._ You shimmy into your tights, careful not to put runs in, then pull your dress down over your head. Stubbing your toe on the door frame, you hop into the bathroom, flick on the light, apply slapdash makeup, smooth your hair, and race back out, Docs in hand, laces trailing. Your handbag's still where you dropped it last night, thank God, and you flick through to check you have everything while you squirm into your coat. Boots shoved on, you head out, yanking at the door.

_Fuck, the cat!_

You drop everything and run back into the kitchen, tip food into the cat's dish, deal with the door once more, and then you're gone.

 

* * *

 

'Boys? I'm off. Can you handle lunch for yourselves?'

Fíli pokes his head round the door frame, takes a messy bite of his apple. 'Course. I didn't think you had to work today, though.' Thorin can hear little Kíli scrape his desk chair back in his haste to join his brother.

 _Ah, the Inquisition has arrived._ _Do I tell them?_   'I'm not working, mate. Just got an... errand or two to run. Besides, Sunday's roast night - you didn't think I'd forget about that, did you?' Fíli's perceptive, but Thorin's sure his nephew can't detect the lie in his voice.  _There's a fair chance this won't turn into anything anyway. Why complicate things?_

Thorin presses a kiss to Kíli's crown, and wraps Fíli in a one-armed hug. Voice muffled against his nephew's shoulder _(God, has he gotten even taller?)_ , he says, 'Please make sure you get some veg into your brother, Fíl.' Pulling away, 'I'll see you both in a few hours. Be good!'

The boys return to their shared room, leaving Thorin to toe his cleanest boots on, check his pockets, and leave. As he travels further down the dingy staircase, he realises that strange twist in his gut is more than just hunger.  _It's been a long while since you've even fathomed dating anyone - too long._   _And what if this turns out to be something more than just a fling? The boys, the flat, the debt. It's enough to send her running for the hills._ Thorin pauses as he reaches the second-last landing.  _But don't you deserve to be happy? God, what are you even saying? It's the first date, not a fucking honeymoon. Relax._

 

* * *

 

Coat ditched despite the crisp air, you smooth your dress with quick hands, glancing quickly in your phone camera to assess your face. Bit damp, not too bad.

'Y/N!'

You turn to see Thorin striding towards you, handsome in grey and navy. You tuck your phone away, and return the wave. Thorin reaches you, seemingly leaning in for a peck on the cheek, then settling for a friendly hand on your upper arm.  _He's nervous too. Good._  

'How are you, Thorin? You look well.'

'Yeah, I am well, thanks. And yourself? Better than this morning?'

'Better, yeah. Bit of a mad dash getting over here in time, though.'

'Not a hair out of place.' You smile. _Oh_ , _flattery will get you everywhere._ Thorin smiles back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

'So... should we walk somewhere? I don't know this park too well,' you say in an attempt to break the tiny silence.

'Yes, sure, um... I think this path just loops round.'

'Ah, okay.' 

Another silence, then the pair of you break into simultaneous laughter. 'God, Y/N, how old are we?'

'I know, right? We can barely make eye contact with each other.'

Your laughter subsides, yours with a half gasp, Thorin's with a short cough. He holds his bent arm out to you, and you loop yours through, settling slightly into his warmth. 'The good thing about a walking date, Y/N, is that eye contact is wholly unnecessary. I don't know about you, but I plan to stare at my boots as long as humanly possible.'

'Excellent. We have an understanding.' You both chuckle again. 'Please, let's just walk before one of us dies of awkwardness.' Rhyming your strides, you set off. The day, though cold, holds the promise of Spring within its faint warmth. Soon enough, Thorin has shed his coat as well, and you thrill slightly at the firm weight of his arm against yours. 

'We could start with the basics, I suppose. What do you do for a living, Y/N?'

'I'm a legal secretary at the moment. Don't fall over with excitement now.'

A laugh. 'Hey, no judgement here. My life isn't exactly that riveting either.'

'You said you did carpentry and other stuff as well as bar work - how is that? Do you enjoy it?'

'I do, yeah. For the most part. I'm sort of a freelance handyman currently, but I've pretty well done every job under the sun.'

'Do you... get bored easily?'

'No, not that, it's just that I move a lot, and always find my bank account a little wanting, so I just pick up whatever I can.'

'I see.'

'Sorry. That was too personal.'

'No, not at all! I like a man who's honest. I just didn't want to force you to reveal things you weren't comfortable with revealing.'

'It's okay, I'm pretty candid about that sort of stuff. I've found that if I'm straightforward with people, they'll generally return the favour.'

 _That still doesn't really explain the what - four? Five jobs? He seems too normal to be doing this because he wants to, what's his deal?_ You're altogether too polite and too unfamiliar with Thorin to grill him further, so you settle into fairly innocent chatter. The weather, typically, decides to wreak havoc, and you both shelter under an oak. The wind whips loose leaves into your faces and sets smaller branches rattling, and you soon find you have to shout to be heard. The mutual decision is made that ducking into a nearby cafe is the best solution, so Thorin grips your hand in his and you half-run across the now deserted park to the glow of a tiny hole in the wall. 

The doorbell jangles, and the pair of you trail bluster and dead leaves behind you, thankful to be ensconced in warmth and the earthy bitterness of coffee.

 

* * *

 

 

Almost the instant you breach the threshold of your flat, you feel the buzz of your ringing phone against your thigh. You fish it out of your bag.  ** _Tauriel calling_**.

 _Is she telepathic? God almighty._  You answer before it rings out, and immediately wince as Tauriel's voice assaults your ear.

_'Y/N! Babe, I phoned you three bloody times! Everything alright?'_

'Yeah, all cool. Just stepped out.'  _She knows me too damn well to believe that._

_'Bullshit! You never miss that many calls! What's going on? Did something happen? You're not hurt, are you?'_

_Sometimes I question why I still tolerate you._ 'Ugh, fine. Yes, something happened, but nothing major. I went on... a date.'

_'Holy shit! Who with?'_

'You don't know him. I met him at the pub I left my phone at the other night. He's one of the waiters.'

_'I want to hear EVERYTHING. Is he nice? Is he hot?'_

You laugh, embarrassed. 'Yes, he's lovely. And, um, handsome, yeah.'

_'Handsome and hot are different things, babe. What does he look like?'_

'Dark hair, kind of long. Bit of a beard. Quite a pointed nose, nice eyes. Really nice eyes.'

_'Fit?'_

You think back to the feeling of his arm, his side, how his legs looked in those jeans. 'Yeah, pretty fit.'

_'Sounds too good to be true.'_

'It's funny you say that, actually - there is something odd about him. He works like four jobs, but doesn't seem... imbalanced or anything. He just works 'cause he needs the money, but I can't see why, if it's just him.'

_'He's got kids.'_

'Well, um, he never said that he did, um-'

_'Course he didn't - he doesn't want to scare you off. But what other reason would he have for working so much? Unless he has some serious drug or hooker habits, he's got kids.'_

Your heart sinks. She's right. Of course she is. You probably could have figured that out too, had you not been so naive.  _See? This is why you haven't been on a date since dinosaurs still walked the Earth. Because people fuck you over._ You can feel tears forming, and you're sure Tauriel can hear it in your voice.

_'Oh, hun, it's not that bad, is it? Dads are usually the most responsible, and the kindest. I should know.'_

You sniffle, and let out a wet giggle. 'That's true. You fuck men like it's going out of style.'

_'You're just upset because you feel like he's lied to you. But has he actually?'_

You think back, and realise that no, he hasn't. Just very neatly dodged the trickier questions. 'God, you're right. Still doesn't make me want to trust him all that much.'

_'Yeah, fair enough. But think of it this way - he hasn't told you because he thinks there's potential, and he wants to break it to you gently. Like I said, he doesn't want to scare you off. He's probably had loads of women who've wanted something casual and then run off when they've realised that he can't really do that. Be wary, of course, but I still think it's a good sign.'_

'God, Tauriel, you drive me crazy, but you always manage to make me feel better.'

 _'That's what I'm here for, babe.'_ You hear a muffled crash on her end, then a cacophony of voices.  _'Shit, gotta go. Full moon, you know how it is. I'll call you soon. Be well.'_

The line goes dead, and you slump down into your armchair. The cat mews, whips his tail about your legs, and stalks off into the kitchen. 'Wow, cat, didn't know you cared.' You sit for a while, letting the new realisation sink in, trying to factor yourself into the enormous complication of his life.  _Could I be a mum? Is that even fathomable? You know what? You're thinking too far ahead. Just let things lead where they lead._ You get up and pad into the kitchen yourself, flicking the kettle on, smiling to yourself over Tauriel's words.

_He thinks there's potential. Thing is, do you feel the same way?_


End file.
